


Achievement

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [63]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Older Woman/Younger Man, Panty Removal Recommended..., Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivia's getting tired of Bond's antics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Achievement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tayryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/gifts), [Wolfsbride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/gifts).



> I wrote the beginning of this fic to illustrate my answer to a question about formatting dialogue and action - and once I'd written it, I figured I might as well do something with it!

"I don't know what you think this will achieve, Bond."

M raised an eyebrow at him, then moved across the room to begin gathering up the empty glasses, setting them on the tray she carried. She glanced back at him as he collected up the empty bottles.

"Would you care to explain?" He gave a shrug, and she huffed with annoyance. "I don't know why I put up with you," she said grumpily, and set off towards the kitchen.

As he collected the last of the empties, he confessed to himself that he had wondered that too.

Since she'd retired from the SIS, following the whole 'Skyfall Incident' as it was known, he'd begun turning up at her flat after his missions were completed, usually before he'd even been debriefed (which was strictly against protocol). He couldn't really explain why, except that it mattered to him that she knew he'd come back alive, if not in one piece. Of course, this time he'd turned up injured, and she'd been in the middle of a drinks party for retired civil servants, which had made her even angrier at his unannounced arrival. 

"Are you going to stand there pouting all evening," M asked suddenly, breaking into his reverie, "or are you going to bring those bottles through?"

"Ma'am." He turned and moved towards the kitchen, holding his left arm stiffly. He probably should have gone into see Mallory and got himself patched up before coming over here, he realised, feeling somewhat sheepish.

M relieved him of the bottles and stacked them in her recycling box, then gestured at a chair by the kitchen table. "Sit down," she said, sounding very like her old self.

"I should – " he began awkwardly.

"Sit down," she repeated, glaring in the old way too.

He obeyed, and waited while she took a first aid kit in its green plastic case from one of the cupboards. 

"Jacket and shirt off," she ordered, and he obeyed, easing both off very carefully over his left arm.

When she saw how black and blue his forearm was he saw her eyes widen in shock. "Have you had this X-rayed?" she demanded.

"No, ma'am."

"For an intelligent man, you're a prize idiot at times, James," she informed him. 

He watched as she crossed to the fridge-freezer and took out a tray of ice cubes, which she emptied into a plastic bag, then wrapped in a tea towel.

"You need to have this X-rayed tomorrow," she told him as she gave him the ice-pack, "to make sure nothing's broken."

"Yes, ma'am." 

She sighed. "Stop calling me 'Ma'am', James. I may boss you about the same, but I'm no longer your boss." She took a roll of bandage and a gauze dressing from the first aid kit, then some cottonwool and after cleaning the knife cut on his upper arm, she applied the dressing and a length of bandage.

"What should I call you, then?" he asked. He'd never forgotten her threat to kill him if he ever revealed her name.

"Olivia," she said. "Do you have any other injuries?" 

He shook his head and she tilted her head at him, her expression considering. 

"You'd better stay here tonight," she told him, taking a sling out of the first aid kit.

"I don't – " he began quickly.

"I don't care what you want," she said firmly. She deftly unfolded the sling, then refolded it into the correct shape, then eased it around his arm, before tying the knot behind his neck. 

Bond felt a surge of arousal at the proximity of her body as she leant over him; the scent of her skin teased his senses and he licked his lips unconsciously. 

"You can have the guest room," she told him as she straightened up. "Where's your bag?"

"I'll go and get it," he said quickly. 

She quirked an eyebrow at him, then glanced down at his chest, and he realised he could hardly go out without his shirt or jacket. 

"I'll sleep in my trousers," he told her gruffly.

She rolled her eyes. "Where did you park?" 

He gave her the name of the side street, then tugged his keys from his trouser pocket.

She took them from him. "I'll be back in a few minutes. I trust you can find the guest room by yourself?"

"Yes, thank you."

She nodded, then went off, and he pushed himself to his feet, feeling suddenly weary. Bed seemed like a welcome prospect.

# # # #

When M returned with his bag, Bond was sitting on the edge of the bed, struggling with his shoe laces. She tutted at him, then pushed his hand aside.

"Let me do that." She crouched down on the floor and deftly unlaced his shoes, then pulled them off, and his socks. "Can you manage your trousers or do you need a hand with those as well?"

He felt his face flush. "I'll manage," he said stiffly.

She nodded, getting to her feet and ignoring the flush. "Do you want something to eat or drink? Do you need some painkillers?"

"Why are you doing this?" he asked abruptly. She raised an eyebrow at him, her expression disbelieving. "You're not obliged to help me. And you'd have been well within your rights to send me packing tonight, so why are you looking after me?"

"It's what friends do," she said curtly. "I presumed, from the fact that you keep coming to see me, that we were friends. If I'm wrong – "

"You're not," he said, interrupting immediately. He didn't want her to think they weren't friends. "Even so, you don't have to look after me."

She shook her head, her expression exasperated. "Go home then," she said, not unkindly. "Look after yourself. I'm sure you'll manage beautifully with only one good arm."

She turned away, but not before Bond glimpsed the hurt in her eyes. He caught hold of her arm and moved towards her as she looked back up at him, the hurt replaced by annoyance.

"Let me go, Bond."

"In a moment," he said. He bent his head and kissed her carefully on the mouth. He half-expected her to push him away, or thump him, but she did neither; her arms slipped around him and she opened her mouth to his kiss, murmuring his name. 

They kissed hungrily for what seemed like hours, but Bond knew it was only a matter of minutes, at most, then she pulled back and looked up at him. He felt as if his heart had stopped when he saw the glitter of desire in her blue eyes.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" she asked, and he noticed the breathy quality in her voice, and felt even more aroused.

"Yes." He slid his hand from the small of her back to cup the curve of her arse, pressing her body more firmly against his. "I've wanted this from the first time I ever came visiting you, and you gave me such a bollocking." He grinned down at her. "It's always turned me on when you get angry with me."

"Pervert," she said, and his smirk became a grin. 

"It's hardly my fault that you're so sexy when you're angry," he told her, then ducked his head to kiss her again.

He nearly leapt out of his skin when she snuck her hand between their bodies and cupped his bulging erection through his trousers; he swore in shock and she laughed, a throaty chuckle that he'd never heard before, and wanted to hear again, and often.

"Saucy little minx," he said, and she just smirked up at him. 

"Did you think I'd be passive, James, like one of your girls?" She bit at his bottom lip as her hands unfastened his trousers, and he groaned as her warm hands found the sensitive spots on his cock.

"Christ!" 

"You'd better sit down," she told him, tugging at his trousers so they slid down his legs. He obeyed, watching as she pulled his trousers off the rest of the way, then continued to watch as she began to undress. He was aching with want by the time she was down to her knickers and bra (matching ivory silk, a corner of his mind noted).

She hesitated before removing her underwear and he wondered why, until she observed, "I'm not one of your girls, James, so my breasts sag without the support of my bra, and you'll find me too dry to fuck without using some lube."

He sat up and wrapped his good arm around her, pulling her close. "I don't care, Olivia." He nipped at her bottom lip, then kissed her deeply. "I've wanted you for so long. And I may be a prize idiot, but I'm not blind."

As he spoke, he unfastened her bra, then tugged it gently away. "Your tits may sag, but they're still magnificent." He kissed her again, before continuing, "When you're very angry, they heave in the most eye-catching manner."

She kissed him this time, her mouth almost savage against his. "You are such a flatterer, James Bond," she said, sounding breathless.

He chuckled. "Doesn't mean it's not true." He slipped his hand between her thighs and cupped her sex. "Where's the lube?"

"Top drawer of the bedside table."

He withdrew his hand and reached for the drawer handle as she pulled back from him, then she took out the familiar blue tube.

"You should lie down properly," she told him, tossing the lube onto the bed, before sliding her knickers off.

He shifted around on the bed, propping his shoulders against the pillows. As Olivia climbed up onto the bed beside him he felt his breath catch: older she might be, but she was still a very desirable woman.

He reached over and picked up the lube, holding the cap awkwardly in his left hand, he unscrewed the tube. She took the cap from him and dropped it onto the bedside table, before shifting to straddle his thighs.

He managed to hold the tube of lube long enough to squirt some onto his hand, and he applied some to his cock first, then he cupped her sex again, before slipping one slickened finger inside. She moaned softly and he nearly came at the sound, but somehow he managed to control himself, and added a second finger to the first.

She leant forward and clasped his shoulders as she began to ride his fingers, and he watched her face transform with pleasure as she drove herself towards an orgasm, her inner muscles clenching tightly around his fingers as she reached her climax. 

She slumped against him, and he stroked her through the aftershocks, wishing he had both hands free so that he could hold her with his other arm. She sat up again, and gave him a wicked smile, which was all the warning he got before she lifted herself and eased his swollen cock into her slick heat.

"Fuck!" His head thumped back against the headboard as she engulfed him. The sensation was exquisite and he clutched at her hip as she began to rock gently, her knees pressed tight against his thighs. 

"I warn you, now," he said, already breathless. "I'm not going to last long." 

She leaned forward and nipped at his bottom lip. "Doesn't matter," she said softly against his mouth. "We've got plenty of time." She circled her hips, and he groaned with pleasure. 

"Are you trying to kill me?" he demanded. "Finish what the Russians started?"

She chuckled. "Poor boy."

"You know, I didn't have you pegged for a tease." She smirked, and he growled, then let go of her hip long enough to release his arm from the sling; grasping both her hips, he began to thrust.

She gasped, and uttered a protesting "James", which he ignored. He wanted to roll them over so that he could pin her to the bed and fuck her properly, but he knew his left arm wouldn't stand the strain.

"I'm going to come," he warned her.

"Come for me, James." She sounded eager, he realised, and then she clenched her muscles around his cock, and he gave a harsh cry as he lost control, his climax shooting through him.

She ended up slumped against his chest again, and this time he wrapped both arms around her, ignoring the protests from his throbbing left arm. They dozed for a little while, and then Bond had to move his arm. 

"You should put your arm back in the sling," she told him softly.

"Will you help me, please?"

She pushed herself upright, and together they eased his arm back into the sling. Then she shifted off him, and tugged the bedding up to cover them both. As she settled her head on his right shoulder, he wrapped his arm around her, then observed quietly,

"This is what I wanted to achieve. Didn't think I ever would, though."

"Foolish boy," she murmured, and after a moment he realised she'd fallen asleep. He lay cradling her body against his and a smile curved his lips. He truly hadn't ever believed he'd achieve this, but now that he had, he felt as if he was invincible.


End file.
